


The Frequency of Fear

by NaraMerald



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Fix-It, Other relationships to be added as I go- not necessarily canon, They fucked it so I rewrote it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-20 03:02:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11911857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaraMerald/pseuds/NaraMerald
Summary: Dear Teen Wolf producers...You created The Dread Doctors, which, yeah, douchey name, but far out you had these mystical, nigh-unbeatable, unfathomable beings who could literally melt in and out of dimensions, who felt no fear, had no mercy, who created body horror and just plain horror unlike no other. No one quite knew who they were, what they were doing, why they were doing it, or what new evil depths they'd plum next.And then you were like, "You know what's better? Let's just have them fade out and replace them with some sort of bullshit French werewolf with a fancy name in a village long long ago. But you know, the more abrupt, the better. Ooh, then let's make this a melted-face love story."You fucked it. You totally, totally fucked it. So I'm fixing it.So this is Season 5- with The Dread Doctors as they should have been, without the Beast of Geveudan, without Gerard, without The Desert Wolf, and without the Chimeras being shitty imitation Erica and Isaac repeats. Also, fuck Cory, going full steam ahead Brason.





	1. Creatures of the Night (Part 1)

Deputy Jordan Parrish was furious about being on desk duty, pissed off beyond the extreme. Sherrif Stilinski basically had him on desk duty, and he didn’t even know why. He could feel a vein above his eye flicker, but he gritted his teeth, got in his patrol car and drove out to investigate the “noise complaint”. Pulling over, he grabbed his torch. House was abandoned… probably some kids broken in there, or knowing Mr and Mrs Waldorf-Keinret, they were losing it in their old age. 

Hell was it creepy though. One of the things that Parish had on other cops was his time serving; compared to the hell that was heavy artillery fire, Beacon Hills was pretty damn tame. Until you know… his fellow officer had set him on fire. Then all the weird shit started happening and he was a hell of a lot more cautious. 

Opening the door, he moved through the dark house, eyeing the empty rooms, cautious, but already starting to feel like the Waldorf-Keinrets were over reacting as per usual. It was then he realised there was a set of stairs to the basement. With an inner sigh, he started down them, relieved to find an empty basement. But that was when he heard it though, a thump. Half turning, he eyed the room cautiously. Nothing there, just the brick wall ahead of him. 

Another thump, forceful. 

“Hello?” Parrish called out. 

A series of three thumps, quick, frantic, coming from behind the bricks. 

_Someone was in there!_

“I’ll get you out!” Parrish yelled, before grabbing his tool kit and starting to smash away. The brick was thick though, and he was hardly making a dent. _They’re going to die in there if I don’t do something._ Finally, a tiny dent, and the banging stopped. But… Parrish looked closer. Something black… liquid, inched out of the tiny pinprick. 

_Black liquid?_

Confused, Parrish looked more closely. More liquid was pouring out, inky, black. Then… a crack in the brick. He could hear the crack travelling through the brick. Eyes widening, Parrish went to step back, but not even a second later, the entire wall exploded outwards. Parrish fell back. He went down, but hair trigger reflexes from the military don’t simply go away. He was back on his feet, crouched, seconds afterwards, and it was probably this that saved him. 

“CAW! 

He didn’t even have time to stand up before wet flapping sounded, the beating wings of what must have been fifty or so crows cawing loudly in some kind of unearthly swarm. 

_What the?!_

Parrish hit the floor just before beaks took out his eyes. A flying crow came too close and he felt a sharp pain as it’s beak scored his cheek. The previously quiet room was filled with the beating of wings, loud in the tiny room. They circled, and he had a moment to worry they’d dive him, before as quickly as they’d come, they disappeared upstairs and presumably out of one of the broken windows in the back. 

Silence. 

With a gulp, Parrish carefully sat up. Then froze. 

There was a crow, one crow, watching him. It was next to something, some kind of silver cylinder. Didn’t look like a bomb, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t one. Then he shook himself mentally. Crows didn’t set off bombs. The bird was creepy as fuck though. 

“CAW!” The bird screamed loudly, Parrish taking a quick half-step back. Its eyes shone in the darkness. It seemed to be more intelligent; too intelligent for a crow. Then abruptly the bird, wings dripping whatever that black gunk was, took off and flew up the stairs, leaving Parrish to cautiously approach the object. 

It was a cylinder. Cautiously, he reached for it. As he picked it up, he accidentally hit a button on the side, and the device lit up, sending out a pulse of sound with the room lit in an eerie blue glow. 

_A signal!_

_But for what?_

Quickly, he hit the off button, but knew as only a soldier can, that the damage was done. And as Parrish looked around warily, in the basement of an abandoned house in Beacon Hills, elsewhere, the darkness was stirring. 

They were coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon changes: 
> 
> No chimera behind the wall, trying to kill Parrish. (I thought the first chimera was exceptionally weak and just added for the sake of it. Hence, I removed it. It was also weird because... how did it get behind the wall? Why was it there? Why go after Parrish? There was no logic to it. Instead, I figured I'd add some kind of sonic signal. It's mentioned several times about how the Dread Doctors operate on a different frequency... so it made sense to play around with the frequency.)


	2. Creatures of the Night (Part 2)

There’s no reception. 

Standing on the roof of her parents’ car, utterly unafraid of the lightening, Kira grimaces and twists, trying in vain for reception. The weather is what most people would call bad, but Kira can feel the lightening in the storm. Unlike the other poor suckers, that kind of energy won’t kill her. In fact, it’s a little exciting. 

She glances at her phone; Scott McCall. She’s dying to see him, every call in her body aching for it. What if things have changed while she’s been away in New York? 

Her mum leans out of the window. 

“Kira, could you come down please?” She sounds like her patience is running out. To be fair, Kira’ll give her that one; most parents wouldn’t let their kids on top of their cars. 

Up ahead, some guy turns around in front of her, disarming grin. 

“Not getting anything either,” he shrugs ruefully, trying to update Facebook she guesses. It’s funny because it’s always kids her age checking their phones- her parents don’t seem put off in the slightest. The more she looks round, the more she sees it’s mainly younger people out of their cars in desperation and impatience. 

With a sigh, she gets back into the car. 

“We haven’t moved in 15 minutes… I’m going to be late,” She mutters, frustrated. She thinks about walking; of course, it starts pouring immediately. 

Hell no, Kira ain’t coming to an important night like this, the start of her final year, looking like a drowned rat. Fuck. 

“There’s a legend… for a storm like this…” Her father begins. Kira sighs. 

“Dad…” she groans. She loves her dad, but he’s such a… professor. 

“…the wild hunt…” Her mother continues softly, eyes far away. “The ghost riders… imagine a night like this, storm clouds like these… phantom riders on black horses with blood red eyes…” 

“What were they hunting?” Kira asks quietly, before pausing. 

“Do you hear that?” She asks, but doesn’t wait. She hurtles herself out the door, into the rain… 

_Scott!!_

Overjoyed, the runs to him and she can’t help herself. It’s so romantic. She looks into his eyes, his usual warm joy, and unable to help herself, she reaches out to him, draws him in, kisses him. It’s soft. Sweet. Warm in the cool rain. Shallow. 

He draws back. 

“Did you have fun in New York?” he asks and his voice is husky. She can’t even try to lie to him. 

“No,” she admits, mouth unable to stop curving into a grin, because now he’s here, everything will change. 

“I’m kinda glad,” Scott grins back, bashful, and she has no idea what he’s talking about or why, but it doesn’t matter, because they’re together. She throws her parents back a cheeky grin. 

“Kira…” her dad sighs. 

“Later mum, dad!” She grins, grabs the helmet he passes her, and hops on the back of his bike. (It really helps that they’re both borderline unkillable… she’d never have been allowed on this bike if she’d been human.) 

The ride is fast, and they pull up, parking undercover, kissing in the tunnel because they can. Kira is delighted, nerves racing up and down her spine. She’s missed Scott; doesn’t ever want to be parted from him again. But now she has him all to herself-

“Scott, buddy!” Stiles calls out. 

Kira sighs a little, with a smile, then turns to face Stiles and Malia. They’re an odd couple, granted, but they seem to work… even if it is frequently hilarious. 

“Hey guys,” Kira grins, and Stiles bounds up to pat Scott on the back. One of the things Kira loves doing is watching Scott. His earnest pleasure at seeing his friends, at seeing her, is part of what makes him such an amazing person to be around. 

“Hey, Malia, what…” she begins, then pauses. Malia is frozen, distracted. 

“Malia?” Kira calls softly, Scott and Stiles immediately looking over. Malia’s eyes glow blue as she mutters, “Someone’s here”. 

“What?” Stiles asks, tone a little high pitched. Malia’s teeth come out, she sniffs deeply and snarls. 

“Someone’s here!” she growls. 

Kira’s hearing isn’t as good as hers, so when she spins and stares at the end of the tunnel, Kira and Stiles are a split second behind Malia and Scott. 

“So… I suppose you don’t remember me then?” a voice calls, echoing down the tunnel. Kira’s attention is fixed on his eyes… glowing golden. Werewolf! 

“It’s been a while since year 4…” the stranger chuckles, stepping forward so they can see him clearly. 

Scott cocks his head to the side, considering, before… 

“Theo?!” Scott asks incredulously. The boy smirks, and Kira watches as Malia eyes him suspiciously. A second later, she quietly realises she spoke to him earlier tonight… the guy trying to get reception. She got here on a motorbike… how’d he get here so quickly? Then she looks at the eyes and remembers- werewolf. 

“What do you want?” Scott asks lowly, voice weary with all the times they’ve been betrayed and had to fight battles no teenagers should be forced to fight. 

“I heard about an alpha… a True Alpha… named Scott McCall. I want in, Scott. I want to join your pack,” Theo spreads his arms, palms up, in supplication. 

Stiles stares at him, untrusting. Kira feels simultaneously sad, because the wounds in Stiles run deep, and very much in sync with him. She doesn’t trust him. An outsider, showing up like this… no, they’ve learnt the hard way about the danger that the McCall pack must be wary of. 

“Hey, you’ve got plans, I don’t want to get in your way. But please… think about it,” the stranger- Theo- asks. His eyes are strangely magnetic, and he looks so… well, he looks like he could be the next Justin Bieber. He certainly doesn’t look like a killer. 

Kira looks at Stiles. 

Looks can be deceiving. 

Theo gives them one, last smile… no, it’s more of a smirk really, and backs off slowly, before turning and walking calmly away out of the tunnel. 

“I don’t like him,” Stiles mutters. 

“Hey, aren’t we late for the signing?” Kira interjects hastily, ever a compulsive peace keeper, and they hurry into the school. Lydia, predictably, is waiting for them, exasperated and demanding as ever. Kira can’t help a fond grin as she looks at the force of nature who has made her and Malia’s lives hell. (But at least she has pretty lingerie now? Malia of course, didn’t really see the appeal of lingerie, as opposed to “get naked” –Stiles must be in for some pretty wild rides, honestly- but Kira was quietly grateful that the humiliating experience could be gotten over and out of the way. Because… well, she wants Scott to see it. And she loves her mum, but she really could not have gone with her.) 

Lydia grins, tucks her arm into Kira’s, and they wander in together, the 5 seniors, making their final first entrance of the year to Beacon Hills High. The library is warm, and lit with a soft glow, chatting as they wait in line to get to the stacks. It feels normal, normal in a way she wasn’t sure they could ever have. Sometimes it feels like entire worlds away where they fought, and bled. Sometimes she feels like she’s two different people… and that’s not counting the fox. 

“Kira?” Stiles offers, she she notices he’s finished, as has Malia and Lydia. She writes her initials with a grin, passing the marker to Scott- her boyfriend. She watches him approach, write his name. They all see the moment his shoulders square- tense. They all watch as he writes again, knowing what letters he is writing. AA. Alison Argent. 

“She’d be proud of us, you know,” Lydia tells them. Scott slings his arm over her shoulder and Stiles’ and smiles. “Yeah, she would,”. 

They walk downstairs, chatting, enjoying the buzz contentedly. Their final year has begun, and Kira for one, welcomes it. She looks at Scott and Stiles, at Malia who is still ecstatic over passing, Lydia who grins at her and thinks of the letters AA. 

They’re going to be alright. 

 

… 

 

Tracey sits up in her bed, heart pounding. She heard something. It’s dark, and raining. She looks up at the skylight in her roof. 

_Something moved!_

It’s a crow. The bird taps at the glass. _Tap tap, tap tap._

Ok, it’s creepy as hell, but she’s fine. She’s fine. Breathing in and out slowly, she forces herself to calm. She’s fine. Breathe. She’s fine. 

It’s silent. 

Weird. 

She looks at the glass, and the crow has gone. She doesn’t know if that makes it better or worse. The tapping has stopped. She’s fine. Breathe. She’s fine. Sinking back into her covers, she breathes out in relief, when she sees it in the window. 

_Something’s out there!_

A man, a monster… someone, something dressed in black! Goggles! Outside her window. TuRN tHE LiGHT On TuRNthEligGHTon TURNTHELIGHTON! 

Panting in fear, she reaches over and fumbles for her light switch. Her fingers are clammy, TurN It ON tUrN it ON TURNITON! Finally, the light flicks on, and she looks back to the window. Nothing. No one. 

Heart pounding, she wants to freeze. She wants to hide. She wants to call someone. A moment more, she’s frozen, prey. 

Then slowly, she gets up. Lightening flashes outside, and she walks towards the window, slowly. Socked feet moving on carpet, silently. Slowly, slowly. Carefully. 

Her heart is pounding. She makes it to the window, clutches it, checks it. 

_Shut._

It’s shut. Of course it’s shut. She’s just being stupid. It’s fine. 

Slowly, she shuffles back to her bed, gets in. Checks the windows. Nothing there. 

Looks at her cupboard. She’s too old for this, too old to wonder about the monster in her closet, but her heart is still pounding. She leans over, touches the light, pauses. 

_There’s nothing here, turn it off._

She doesn’t want to. Breathing heavily, she rationalises with herself, before finally forcing herself to turn the dial. The room goes dark. 

She rolls onto her side, swallowing the giant lump in her throat, hugging her covers. Shutting her eyes, she wants to cry. 

_It’s fine, it’s fine, I’m fine._

She hugs her blankets, as the wind howls. The wind? Her hair moves, blown around. It’s cold. 

_What?!_

She looks up, the sky light is open! _How?!_

TuRN tHE LiGHT On

Her fingers reach for the light.

TuRNthEligGHTon 

She’s winding the knob, winding it, winding it…

TURNTHELIGHTON!

_Fuck!_

It won’t light. She gets up, drags her chair over frantically, steps up onto it. She reaches for the skylight, tries to tug it shut. 

Her heart is pounding, she reaches. The chair tilts and she nearly overbalances. Reaches. 

_Shut it, shut it, shut it!_

Finally, after what seems like an age, she manages to shut the window, with a hurried breath of relief, she latches it shut- locks it. Breathing out, she pauses. Looks down, behind her. 

A dark hand reaches for the chair. 

As the chair tips and she falls to the floor, she screams as loud as she can. 

It’s the last thing she remembers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon changes: 
> 
> No chimera behind the wall means no chimera stalking Ms McCall, nor fighting and trying to kill Scott. This in turn affects Theo's entrance.


	3. Parasomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awake or asleep? Tracey suffers debilitating night terrors. But... are they really just dreams?

She can’t sleep. She’s a walking zombie, and she’s talking to the teacher, and it’s so hard to focus. Tired. Tracey’s tired.

“-acey? Tracey?”

She blinks.

“Tell me what’s wrong…” It’s her kind face, her sympathy that prompts Tracey to give it a go, to relate her awful nightmares, her terrible fears and her inexplicable knowledge that they can’t be true. But it feels like something is wrong, terribly wrong.

She blurts it out, and she wants to feel better, but it’s still just as terrifying and uncomfortable. Worse, she can see Ms Martin doesn’t believe her. Her smile is sympathetic, but Tracey knows instantly she hasn’t understood, not really.

“I think you are dealing with normal anxiety… the kind that all seniors face,” Ms Martin says to comfort her, and Tracey smiles weakly before standing, making some generic excuse so she can just get the hell out and lick her wounds in peace.

As she stands, she feels a tickle in her throat, and coughs slightly. It doesn’t get better, and alarmed, she tries but can’t pull enough air in to cough properly. These tiny, little coughs aren’t enough to clear her airway and she’s already hunching over the table, struggling to get air in.

“Tracey?”

No air. She coughs.

“Tracey?!” Cut off gasps.

No air!

“Oh my god Tracey!”

Tracey doubles over, bracing herself on the desk. Red and black spots paint her vision. Her stomach heaves.

“Breathe, BREATHE!”

Tracey vomits. Chokes. Coughs out the last of it. She has a split second to register ‘Air!’, panting, before she looks down. It’s black.

Her breath still coming quickly, Tracey eyes the black liquid on the front of Ms Martin’s desk. It doesn’t look like vomit, it looks like tar. It doesn’t smell like vomit, it smells like chemicals. And she’s not sure many people cough up crow feathers.

“Is this common?” Tracey asks.

Ms Martin doesn’t have an answer for her.

…

 

“I don’t trust him,” Stiles grumbles.

“You had your dad run a background check on him, and he found a single speeding ticket…” Malia is sounds practical, and not nearly as worried as she should be.

“People trying to get away from something,” Stiles informs Malia earnestly, casting a side eye to check that “Theo” isn’t sidling up behind him.

“How many do you have? … Wait, how many would you have if your dad didn’t get you out of them?” Malia asks, far too reasonably in Stiles’ opinion.

“Seventeen,” Stiles deflates. He pauses, gives up.

“Look, I know why you’re worried. He’s got the perfect body, great hair… you should definitely feel threatened,” Malia begins. Seriously?!

“Thank you. Thanks for that,” Stiles does a double take, staring at Malia. Like usual, she's 100% serious. What next in this perfect day, Harris, back from the dead to teach science? He purses his lips and looks to the sky as if something is going to land another blow on an already stunning day.

“Do you want me to torture him? Malia asks matter of factly, because of course she does.

“What?! No!” Stiles yelps. “I have a plan… get his story, verify the facts… find the piece that doesn’t fit, then catch him in the act... That’s how you do it.” Stiles just needs to catch him in the act now.

“Fine.” Malia watches as a car pulls up, and who should get out, but Mr Great Hair himself. He’s practically Justin Bieber the way his blue eyes sparkle and his hair is gelled perfectly into place… he’s already waving to his fans.

"Why are you suspicious of him again?" Malia is waving back.

Stiles looks at Theo, grinning as he strides towards them. He’s considering as he answers. “Because I remember Theo from fourth grade… ok? That’s not Theo.”

…

Liam is busy fobbing off Mason’s enquiries. He kind of regrets letting Mason in on his secret, because as soon as Mason found out _”You’re a WEREWOLF?!”_ he’s had six questions for every one response Liam can manage to get out. Mason’s support is tremendous, but so is the amount of questions he has, so Liam’s not exactly on time, and he’s not really paying attention when he wanders into class. He immediately regrets this. Liam curses six ways to infinity when he realises who is next to him. _Hayden?!_

Oh yes, he regrets this. And... maybe each and every one of his life choices that have lead up to this moment. He chances a peek. She is not happy to see him; not happy at all.

“Great,” he mutters. He’s never seen someone chewing gum quite so spitefully before.

“You’re not going to stand there all semester are you?” Mr Yukimura asks.

“Uh… maybe?” Liam offers. It’s looking like a solid alternative from where he’s standing.

“Liam… take a seat,” Mr Yukimura sighs.

Liam sits. Liam pauses. Liam has gum on his arse. His eyes narrow. Liam has her gum, on his arse. He glares at her… demon girl. The she-witch grins. Liam’s eyes narrow further.

It only makes it worse when he sees how gleeful Mason is next to him in class. Traitor. His drama queen friend is lapping it all up. Liam barely manages to scrape through class, and relieved at the reprieve, stumbles desperately to his locker. He opens his mouth, ready to unleash a tirade about injustice. Mason’s grin only widens. Liam has a bad feeling about this. Mason is looking past Liam, so he turns around and… oh fuck his life. Of course the crazy lady has the locker next to him. Of course.

“You know, I was wondering if you were still pissed at me about the sixth grade,” Liam begins, hoping she’ll take a hint. _Come on man, it was the sixth grade! How long can you hold a grudge for?!_

“Oh, I’m not pissed,” she says, and it sounds like it’s supposed to be sweet, but by now Liam knows what danger sounds like. _Also, is Mason fucking giggling?!_

“I’m vengeful,” she finishes, and her tone is as forgiving as the series of assassins that tried to kill them all as part of the deadpool. (For those not in the know... unforgiving. Extremely unforgiving.)

Mason, bizarrely, looks amused, because that's the kind of horrible person he is. Liam groans.

Awesome. He’s fucked.

…

Tracey spins the dial on her locker.

It’s fine.

She can hear it. Clanking. She sees its shadow.

Metal footsteps.

_Metal? In the hallway?_

Get the locker door open, get it open. _You’re imagining things Tracey, just imagining._

There’s the hum of electricity, a chittering noise.

If she can just get it open…

She opens the locker, and it’s normal. The hallway is packed, everyone’s around her, it’s light, it’s fine. Everything is-

Suddenly, the lights go out, and the hallway is empty.

_What?! How?! What’s happening?!_

She freezes. Maybe if she doesn’t move… maybe it won’t notice her. Maybe whatever it is won’t come for her.

Movement. Her eyebrows furrow as she tries to understand what’s…

Liquid. Black liquid is coming out of the locker. This isn’t normal, it’s not… What’s happening to her?!

It drips, thick, and black. The puddle on the floor is shiny, would look like blood… if it wasn’t pitch black. The lock on the locker door jiggles. The liquid continues to ooze even as the lock clicks open. The sound is loud in the empty hallway.

Tracey breathes in short pants, quiet gasps, still frozen. The locker door swings open, metal squeaking.

_Run. Run. Why can’t I run?!_

There’s something…

A hand. There’s a metal hand, coming out of the locker.

_Not possible!_

The metal hand snakes its way out of the locker. Tracey is locked in place, trapped by the inexplicable clicking noises, like some kind of insect or alien but what crawls out is …

It’s him.

With a bone deep gut wrenching sensation of terror, Tracey immediately understands.

_The thing from the window!_

It’s after her, not just anyone. It was outside her house, watching her… and now it’s come for her. Tracey’s eyes tear up. Run. Run run RUN run RUN.

She can’t move.

**Clink.**

Tick tick clack.

**Hiss.**

It’s moving sideways, like gravity doesn’t even affect it, sliding across the lockers towards her.

It’s coming for her.  
  
**Thump.**

What kind of thing wears a mask like that? It’s not natural.  
  
**Clink.**  
  
Hiss.

Like a chemical warfare mask. Makes her think of poison.

**Thump.**

It’s coming for her.

**Tick tick clack.**

**Hiss.**

**Thump.**

_There’s nothing here!_

**Thump.**

She can hear it scraping, metal on the lockers.

**Clink.**

It’s getting closer.

**Tick tick clack.**

“There’s nothing here!”

**Hiss.**

**Thump.**

This close now, and everything is starting to blur.

**Clink.**

_There’s nothing here!_

**Tick tick clack.**

**Hiss.**

“-cey?”

Her vision is blurring.

It’s getting closer.

**Thump.**

“Tracey?” Suddenly, everything blends back into normal. The hallway fades back in, lit, warm, bustling and alive with noise.

Tracey realises Lydia is speaking to her.

“What?” Tracey blinks.

Lydia leads her away, and Tracey doesn’t turn back. She doesn’t see the claw marks gouged deep into her locker.

When Parrish checks her house later that day, she doesn’t see the bloody scratches he sees, the dead birds or the trail of feathers… leading straight to her skylight.

 

…

Stiles does not believe Theo. He doesn’t believe his bullshit story about year 4. He doesn’t believe his bullshit story about Scott giving Theo some asthma pep talk. The whole town have known about Scott’s asthma, and plenty of people knew about the asshole twins. Whole story could have been completely fabricated, and Stiles isn’t stupid enough to buy it.

Then there’re the signatures; they’re not the same, not at all. Even if Theo isn’t a mass murderer, it’s statistically likely, that one, if not both of his parents are (just sayin’ Beacon Hills).

“What are we even doing here Stiles? We just watched him play four hours worth of Playstation…” Liam whinges as they trudge through the trees.

Stiles tunes him out unrepentantly.

“Focus Liam! Have you got his scent?... Liam? Liam?” Stiles turns around exasperated, to see… nothing.

Seriously Liam? Where did the he go?

Stiles marches back only to see… Liam stuck down a giant hole. Is he kidding?! The one oddly giant hole in this entire damn forest and the supposed _werewolf_ doesn’t manage to notice it’s there?!

“What are you doing?” Stiles looks at him, exasperated.

“I-” Liam begins.

Ain't nobody got time for that. Stiles waves him off, distracted by seeing Theo through the trees.

“Stop screwing around!” Stiles reminds him, before running off. By the time Liam joins him, Stiles is waiting, anticipating.

“What’s he thinking? What’s his emotional state?” Stiles hisses.

Liam sniffs, tilts his head, sniffs again.

“He’s sad…. Well, not just sad. Grief…” Liam whispers, confused.

“Grief…” Stiles is taken aback, before all of a sudden he sees the white flowers in Theo’s hand and has a moment of horrified realisation.

“Oh my god! Go… we’ve got to go… just go…” Stiles’ voice may be a little high pitched but give him a break, he gets to tell Liam all about how they’ve interrupted Theo’s mini-funeral service for his dead sister who got lost and died of exposure. Great. And now they’re both arseholes.

“That doesn’t sound evil…” Liam offers, and Stiles begins to say “I know it doesn’t…” when they look up and realise Theo’s somehow looming ahead of them, perched on the tree branch.

Stiles isn’t gonna say it aloud, especially right now, but standing in a tree, only to leap down in front of them? That looks kind of evil.

“What are you guys doing?”

Stiles dies a thousand deaths, figuratively. Evil, evil, evil, yes, his evil radar is going off. Also, they might die literally, now Evil Theo has caught them.

Liam can fight for both of them. Well, Stiles hopes.

But Theo is playing nice, and so instead they get the speech. Yada yada yada, Scott’s pack is nice, Theo belongs there… something something something… well Stiles didn’t follow every single but of it, but the end result? Impasse.

Stiles and Liam trudge back, figurative tails between their legs (there’s a joke there, Stiles is sure of it), only to find Scott waiting for them. Stiles sighs.

“You find anything?” Scott asks.

“Nope,” Stiles mutters, a touch sullenly.

“I fell in a hole!” Liam pipes up, causing Stiles to look at him incredulously. Seriously?! This is what he has to work with? A puppy has more life skills than this. At least puppies are cute.

“It was the bridge where his sister died, wasn’t it?” Scott asks, as if he already knew. (And hey, that would have been a good heads up buddy.)

“Yes it was. Very embarrassing. So… we’re going to leave now.” Stiles says, and yes, this conversation is tanking, tanking fast.

Scott rubs all the people he was wrong about in his face, all the people he suspected, who grew to be part of their group, their pack. If ever a conversation was the titanic, this would be that conversation.

“I was right about Peter!” Stiles reminds him, before adding sourly “I bet you still think there’s something about him that can be saved…”

“There may be…” Scott says calmly, and ding ding ding, they’ve hit the ice berg.

“Why can’t you trust anyone?” Scott asks, as if he, Stiles, is the unreasonable one, and Stiles explodes.

“BECAUSE YOU TRUST EVERYONE!” He yells, before throwing his hands up in despair, accidentally smacking his left hand into the car with resounding force.

“Let me see it,” Scott cajoles softly, concerned. Of course he’s concerned. Stiles yelled in his face, and Scott's main concern is whether Stiles broke his hand while he was ranting. Stiles sighs.

Scott takes the pain away, and Stiles bites his lip. He’ll have to try. For Scott’s sake at least, he’ll have to try.

But that doesn’t mean he likes Bieber.

…

Tracey comes to in a nightmare. Everything is confusing and blurry. She’s cold. It’s green and… oddly smokey. There’s… a test tube with some kind of monster in it.

No.

Oh no.

**Thump.**

The room shakes.

**Clink.**

Her vision starts blurring.

**Tick tick clack.**

NoNoNO.

**Hiss.**

The pavement below her feels so real.

**Thump.**

_Wake up! Wake up!_

**Clink.**

She’s beginning to hyperventilate.

**Tick tick clack.**

It is walking towards her.

**Hiss.**

She can see it.

**Thump.**

She can feel the energy around it, some kind of static.

**Clink.**

The hair on the back of her neck rises.

**Tick tick clack.**

The hair on her arms rises.

**Hiss.**

Her vision… it seems to blur in and out when she looks at it closely.

**Thump.**

“There’s nothing there!” she says desperately.

**Clink.**

It feels so real. She can _smell_ the chemicals!

**Tick tick clack.**

It’s looking behind her. Tracey’s eyes widen. She whips her head around… there are more!

“Oh god!” Tracey breaths, knowing she’s going to pass out if this keeps up, half wishing she would…  
The creature in front of her, gas mask for a face, red circle lenses looking like her worst nightmare holds up an… arm? And no no no no…. there’s a giant needle. Part of his glove has a huge needle.

“There’s nothing there.”

“There’s nothing there,” she says a bit desperately.

“I’m just sleeping,” she gasps out, tears of terror sliding down her cheek.

“NO” a robotic voice answers. “YOU ARE AWAKENING”, it announces. Even as her eyes widen in horror, the things behind her latch metal claws into her wrists and push her forward. She barely even registers the pinch of their claws, or the cold graze of her cheek as it is ground into the floor. The agony of the needle rupturing the skin on the back of her neck and stabbing deep into her flesh pales in comparison to the agony of realising that she’s not asleep, that she’s not dreaming.

Her last conscious thought is to wonder what they are doing to her. She chokes, her body convulses once, and her eyes go blank. The doctors wait a moment. Then her eyes flash gold, she draws herself up and snarls. Her spine arches unnaturally, her claws drip and she lets out a roar.

The old Tracey is dead. Long live the new Tracey. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canon changes: 
> 
> Tracey's old personality has been re-written. This is now canon for successful experiments. It's Tracey's body, but it ain't Tracey inside, not anymore. (I always found it odd that some of the chimera did a total 180 in personality, like Tracey and Corey's ex, and others were apparently perfectly fine, like Hayden and Mason.) 
> 
> Mason already knows about Liam being a werewolf. (Just seemed really uneccessary to have that extra hallway scene.)


End file.
